


friends and butchers

by deadboy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadboy/pseuds/deadboy
Summary: Remus Lupin knew one thing for sure: Sirius Black loved him. Sirius Black wanted him. And as soon as he’d admit it, Sirius Black would get him. Remus was going to play the whole game, and he was going to enjoy it.





	1. Capitulum Nihil: Prologus (Prologue)

It was frustrating, but obvious. Remus could see it everywhere. In the big cups of angry coffee that Sirius rudely brewed for himself, and nobody else, in the mornings. It was in the bare rolls of toilet left on the holder. It was scattered all over the kitchen floor in shards, splattered over the hob in obnoxious red splodges. It was all over the house. It was suffocating all four of them, but Remus sighed a breath of relief because now, now he knew. He’d worked it out and he was certain.

Remus Lupin knew one thing for sure: Sirius Black loved him. Sirius Black _wanted_ him. And as soon as he’d admit it, Sirius Black would get him. Remus was going to play the whole game, and he was going to enjoy it.


	2. Capitulum Unus

I

It was a dark, dastardly evening in November, and the four of them were squeezed into the hovel of a living room that was part of their grimy student digs. It was Peter’s TV night, so naturally they were spectating Top Gear, and Remus also happened to be the only one completely unaffected by the show.

“The fucking e _ngine sounds,”_ James exclaimed in awe. “They get me fucking going, my god. Beautiful.”

“I know they do,” Sirius snorted. “You and my bastard bike are going at it behind my back. I’ve seen the evidence, Potter.”

James laughed and playfully hit Sirius. Just like brothers, Remus thought, smiling at the pair, fond and comfortable despite the cretinous taste in television.  He had a textbook flopped open, forgotten on his lap. 100 pages of reading for tomorrow’s seminar, yet here he was engrossed not in Top Gear itself, but in the scenes it was causing between his friends. He snorted to himself, and then it happened.

Sirius looked at him, as if he’d forgotten he was there, all affronted and aloft.

“Well, that was an attractive sound,” he quipped, meanly, before throwing his gaze back to James.

I see what you’re doing, Lupin thought. I see right through you, Sirius. By pulling his gaze away from Remus, the Black boy was trying to protect himself from what feelings would stir up in his loins by looking at Remus, by imagining. And Remus had been keeping track recently. Every time Sirius snapped at him for no reason, creating something out of nothing just to create a little spark or energy between them. Remus could see Sirius getting worked up every time, every time Remus didn’t give rise to his little antics or humour his endeavours.

Remus really wanted to tease him with this, so he replied, “Thank you, Sirius. I’m glad you think so.”

Sirius didn’t look up from James’ phone screen, where he was inevitably being given access to James’ football team’s group chat, full of drunken antics and foul images of recently discovered food items, now unidentifiable, retrieved after months from the back of an old fridge.

And that was how Remus knew he r _eally_ had him. The fun began here.

“I’m off to bed,” he sighed, leaning forwards and letting his knees close his textbook with a snap. “Got a 9am with Sharon tomorrow and she’s very big on punctuality. I guess history teachers really are bogged down by time. Ha!”

Peter must have been the only one who heard, because he gave a small chuckle and a friendly, “Night, Moonster”. James got the message once Remus sauntered past him to get to the door, and mumbled, “See you, mate” but Sirius seemed to even more furiously double down on his text message. Whatever could be that urgent at 10pm, Remus had no idea. That boy really wasn’t half as mysterious as he thought.

_X_

Remus loved Thursdays, because he only had Sharon’s two hour class at 9, and then he could spend the rest of the early morning and afternoon half-studying, half-relaxing in the small campus coffeeshop. They sold amazing Fairtrade chocolate bars there that Remus was absolutely wanton for. At just after 12, the group chat vibrated itself awake.

_Pete: Any1 want anythin from sainsburys?_

_James: can u get me a mars bar or smthn? cheers pal x_

_Sirius: Lime Smirnoff_

_Remus: Are you going to pay him back this time, Sirius?_

_Pete: lol_

_Sirius: Oh shut up Lupin_

And with that, Remus set his phone away, satisfied and even triumphant. He had to admit, if only to himself, that it was an amazing feeling. This power, of knowing, of having exclusive information and being able to play just a small amount with it. Furthermore, Sirius knew nothing of it. There he was, burning away inside with this secret, this desire and these feelings that he so ardently tried to kick down and stamp out, but Remus _knew._ Remus had worked it all out, and he couldn’t wait for the look on Sirius’ face when he finally cracked and Remus remained as calm and plain as ever. For not, though, he was enjoying the slow game. These tiny bursts of pleasure were even better than getting a first on his essay.

Remus didn’t check his phone again until he was on his way out of the café and starting off back home once he’d read two hundred pages on the Tudor dynasty. More games and twists and turns. He couldn’t escape this exciting inner life.

_James: omfg lmfao guys nick just slipped on the mud as he went for a goal and he looks like he shat himself_

_James: fucking insane hahaha_

_Sirius: Lol Nick’s a cunt_

_Pete: lol_

_Pete: anyone in btw, forgot my keys?_

_James: nah football til 6 sorry mate. try the plant pot again?_

_Sirius: It’s still broken_

_James: lol o yeah_

_Pete: You in Sirius?_

_Sirius: Might be_

_Pete: I can see you in the window. And I can hear ur music_

_Sirius: Busy_

_Pete: …_

_Pete: Can you drop my yellow folder out the window then? Need it for class mate_

Remus rolls his eyes, and does it maybe a little too hard, because it feels like a full on knock to the head. Like, skull-on-skull collision type knock.

“Not like you to be off the ball, Lupin,” comes a soft familiar voice. Ah, Lily Evans. She’s beautiful and auburn and she smells nice. They took the same German module last year, and they lived on the same floor in halls. She was a nice girl, and a well-known campus face.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Remus laughed. “You can’t expose my secret! I am in actuality fantastically scatter-brained.”

“I’ll let you off this time,” she smiles, then nods gently towards the device in his hands. “Texting anyone interesting?”

Remus thinks about telling her that, yes, he is. He’s messaging Sirius Black who is a very interesting person indeed. Lily had her eye on Sirius for a while, mainly during freshers when he was at his best, laughing and playing his part of his so-called double act with James, and though she now thinks he’s just a cold dickhead, she doesn’t know what Remus knows. She’d probably still be a little jealous if she hadn’t shifted her attention to James.

“Just Sirius, we’re probably off to the pub later,” he replied nonchalantly. “The Crown, I bet, if Sirius has a choice.”

“Oh, nice. Well, have fun,” Lily smiled, though this time it was a little more forced. That was odd. It was like she still wanted a piece of Sirius, even though she talked more to James now on account of the fact that they were both reserves on the swimming team. Not that it would make a difference now anyway. Remus would make sure to mention this little encounter to James. Him and Sirius, hanging out with James and Lily, might be nice in a few months time.

X

Back at home, Remus wondered how long it would be until he got another piece of the puzzle to enjoy. He’d been back half an hour now, but hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Sirius so far. In the kitchen he’d made himself a green tea, and couldn’t find his favourite plain white mug, so Sirius probably had it, which was interesting, but that had happened before. Another one of his muffins had disappeared out of his cupboard, which was probably also Sirius. It was funny how he never did that to James considering how close the two of them were supposed to be. It always _had_ to be Remus’ things that he stole and hid, yearning for a reaction that he never got. Maybe Remus could change that this time.

Remus stays in the kitchen because it’s never quiet like this, never just still and clean so he flops open the same book from last night and dives in. He reads about the Elizabethans for a while, and then there’s a bang. Followed by more bangs. It’s a whole chain of bangings, headed by the huge metal wrecking ball that is Sirius Black. Sirius stops just slightly in the doorway, before sauntering ahead to fridge. He drinks straight out of Remus’ almond milk carton, just like Remus himself does first thing in the morning when nobody is awake to witness him. His little secret, his little guilty pleasure, colliding with the big secret he knows.

“Don’t we have any decent fucking food in this place?” Sirius growls as he launches a block of cheese back into the fridge with yet another bang.

“I had some very nice muffins, but perhaps we have mice, since they appear to have scuttled away out of my cupboard and off into the sunset,” Remus teases, but Sirius just turns to focus fully and moodily on him.

“Mice? That’s actually disgusting. I’m not living with mice. Where can I get a cat, right now?”

The house chat buzzes with this question almost as soon as the words are out of Sirius’ mouth.

_Pete: Pet shop, Sirius :)_

_James: I’m on it_

“Also, was that an accusation?” Sirius chimes back in as Remus flips the page primly.

“If the boot fits, Sirius.”

Remus is pointedly focussed on his book now, but he’s not taking anything in. He’s concentrating on Sirius’ shallow breaths and his long legs in his peripheral vision, stomping and moping and kicking things. He can hear the furious tapping of thumbs on a cracked phone screen, but there’s no buzzing on the house group message. Maybe he’s worked out that Remus is onto him. Remus can’t decide if that would be exciting, or a shame that it came to an end before he’d really gotten his fun out of it. The payoff would be minimal at this point.

“I bet you didn’t go to class today,” Remus challenges Sirius, closing his book finally. He needs to look at him for this.

Sirius barely gives Remus a flickering look as if he’s just started discussing his bathroom habits in vulgar depth before he’s back to frantically texting.

“I bumped into Evans today,” he tries this time. “You know, the redhead? Lily? From halls last year?”

Sirius does another one of those looks, as if he’s physically searching for Remus’ point floating around, hidden somewhere in the room.

“Yeah, I know her. The nerdy dyke. So what?”

“Nothing, we just had a nice conversation. She came and sat with me in the coffeeshop on campus. And I don’t think she’s Sapphic, Sirius. She seemed quite keen to see me again, actually.”

“Oh, nice. Isn’t she living in a studio flat or something? I heard she couldn’t find anyone who wanted to live with her.”

“Well, she invited me to see it. Not very subtle, really, is it?”

Sirius shoots him the meanest look that Remus has ever seen, all daggers and steel and something rotten, and he holds it this time. Remus has got to Sirius with his own little needling dagger.

“Do you think that would bother James?”

Sirius is now leaning against the kitchen counter, picking Cheerios out of the box and furiously crunching them in a hasty chain. No response. Nice try.

“Does it bother _you?”_

Sirius snorts.

“What, that someone’s into James? Hardly a surprise, he seems to know everyone and at least half of them think he’s the nicest person in the world, somehow.”

He scoops a whole handful of cereal into his mouth without dropping a single little wheat ‘o’ on the floor. Remus notices – like he wasn’t supposed to – how artful a deflection both the comment and the subsequent scooping were. Sirius had become such an uncaring character, he’d gotten so used to his act of being impenetrable, that he didn’t even suspect that anyone would ever be able to see through it.

“I don’t even think Evans is into James anyway,” Sirius adds, a little to Remus’ surprise, through a wet mouthful of Cheerios. “They saw each other in the summer, anyway, didn’t they, at some varsity thing, but he never mentioned her much. And I swear she is a dyke.”

Remus gives a long series of hearty laughs.

“ _Sirius_ ,” he stresses, pointedly, because he knows he’s getting somewhere now. “She invited me out.”

“Okay,” Sirius crunches, and leaves abruptly.

_James: omw back should I pick up beers?_

_Sirius: Gross_

_James: thought pete got u vodka?_

_Pete: I did_

_Remus: Not enough, Sirius?_

_Sirius: Was literally just saying that beer isn’t nice_

_Sirius: But if you have to get it, get Bud_

_Sirius: Or that Waitrose one_

_X_

The following morning, Remus awoke gently and found himself bathed in a warm, winter sun as he lay tangled in his grey sheets. He could hear the usual commotion of this masculine house tumbling around in the air downstairs. That wasn’t usual, but then his habit of staying up late to analyse Sirius’ social media activities and to recount the day’s encounters in his diary for best future reference wasn’t usual either. He had stayed up, it seemed, for nothing, since the only think he noticed was Sirius’ Instagram liking activity. He liked two pictures the entire night. One was just shy of 2.a.m. and it was a candid photograph of Noel Fielding in a black birdlike cape outfit, and silver boots, a cheap and cheerful version of Sirius himself. The second was a team photo of the university boys football team, all grinning and muddy, and with Nick Johnson in the centre, bottom muddy and every finger pointing towards it exaggeratedly.

Remus washed modestly, smoothed out his glowing copper hair, and sauntered downstairs. Immediately the lads teased him about being the last one up, laughing and joking. And then James said it.

“How was last night, Moony? Evans, wasn’t it? Busy were you?”

It wasn’t accusatory, just friendly and teasing, but then again James always was better at acting than Sirius could ever hope to be.

“What? Oh, no, we cancelled. Homework and all that.”

“’Homework, and all that’,” Sirius mimicked jealousy. “This isn’t school, Remus. You’re allowed to leave the house without asking matron, now. You’re even allowed to not _do_ your homework. Fucking live a little.”

He turns back to his patchwork breakfast of bacon, bread, beans and lumps of cheese. It’s so ridiculous that it makes Remus a little angry. Peter’s smirking around a fat sausage sandwich, and James has his face buried in a huge bowl-like mug of tea.

“Yes. Yes, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sirius?” Remus says calmly but sharply before he can even consider it or stop himself. “Someone sounds _jealous._ Why would that be?”

Sirius sniggers cruelly and James’ eyes have creased with confusion behind his glasses.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Lupin. I’m jealous of your homework? Fuck me,” Sirius says, utterly bored and disinterested, and he even tries to sound contemptuous. This time Remus does use his split second to think, and think he does. He uses it w _ell._

“Yes. You’d like _that_ even more, wouldn’t you, Sirius?”


	3. Capitulum Duo

Sirius’ reaction had been both exciting, and underwhelming. For just a second, half a second, a hundredth of a second, he seemed to have this evil flash overtake his dark eyes, caught out. Then the eyes dulled, and they rolled, and they turned back to the phone with an irritable huff.

“Give me a break, Remus, it’s Friday. I can’t be arsed with your smarmy little riddles.”

Simultaneously, Remus felt exhilarated and frustrated by how close he’d brushed that locked-away, inner portion of Sirius Orion Black’s soul. An electric current surged through Remus’ nervous system as he remembered his risky remark, his direct challenge – his admission of knowing, even. As much as he’d enjoyed that jolt, he realised that he’d have to be more methodical from now on. Thankfully, he had today plus the entire weekend to plan his next move.

It seemed so far that the slow approach wasn’t working – he needed to make Sirius s _weat._

_X_

Remus’ first plan of action was a rather carnal one, but a vital one. That fleeting light in Sirius’ eyes had given away enough of what Remus needed, so he sauntered downstairs in less clothing than usual – just to dip his toe in the water. He wore his usual clothes, corduroy trousers, geometrically pattered socks and tan loafers, but no shirt.

“Has anybody seen a shirt of mine?” he calls just before he proceeds through the doorway. “I can’t find any of them and I have class in less than an hour. I really need it. Come on, lads, let’s not jest on a Monday, eh?”

Only James and Sirius are awake and they’re huddled up on the sofa in front of a morning breakfast TV show.

“It’s a little late for you to be getting dressed, isn’t it, Moony? You’re always down here with the newspaper, suited and booted by nine,” James wonders aloud, but he doesn’t seem desperately interested.

“Have you seen a _ny_ of my shirts?” Remus repeats. “I’m not wearing one, here!”

“You wild animal,” Sirius murmurs around his toast, tearing at it like one himself, not unsticking his eyes from the gogglebox at any point. That satisfies Remus enough. Sirius obviously doesn’t even trust himself to look at Remus’ bare skin. He’s ruffled already.

“You haven’t taken them, have you, Sirius?” he asks sternly. Then Sirius does look up, face like thunder and incredulous to the corners.

“Of course I haven’t nicked your stupid grandad jumpers. They probably fell apart in the wash and quite frankly, if I were you, I wouldn’t be moaning about that.”

“Are you _sure_ you haven’t seen them? Done anything with them a _t all?”_

“Come on, mate,” James inserts. “Not really Sirius’ style, are they? Maybe they got mixed up with Pete’s stuff, he did like a month’s load of washing the other day.”

“I suppose,” Remus sighs, conceding. “Sorry, Sirius. It’s just frustrating. I’m rather chilly, you see.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” James tries. “I might have a jumper that’ll go with your trousers or something. I’m gonna be in my kit all day anyway.”

Oh, that’s right, Remus remembers. James’ game. It’s an important qualifier for the next round and every other person is buzzing with excitement for it.

“Ah, of course,” Remus smiles. “Well, I’ll have another look otherwise I’ll have to wear something else. I’m not missing the game, James. It’ll be such good fun.”

And he means that, he r _eally_ means that. He’d never go to a football game for anything other than to support his friend, but that’s not why he’ll be there this time. He’ll be there sitting right next to Sirius. He’ll have him on his own – cornered, in a crowd hundreds strong.

“Let me know what time you’re heading down and I’ll come along. We want the best seats, don’t we, Sirius?”

“I’m going down with James when the team are getting there. I need to see Regulus as well.”

“No matter, I’ll come early too. I’d love to see behind the scenes, the changing rooms, smell the competition, you know?”

Sirius snorts cruelly and stands abruptly. He looks at Remus properly for the first time. His eyes are strong and piercing and he feels one hundred percent naked. Vulnerable and cold, under the hot steely gaze of Sirius’ shuttered eyes.

“You _do_ look cold, mate,” is all he says before sweeping past to go upstairs.

_X_

“Remus, mate? You still fancy coming to pitch early? It’s alright if you don’t, it’ll probably be a bit boring. The game doesn’t start til six…” James calls up the stairs.

Remus has been in his room for hours, his porridge bowl and teacup, accompanied by a large globe of a teapot have been sitting on his desk, neglected and bereft, since late morning. He is still sitting bare-chested despite the frosty climate and it’s another split second decision. He swipes up the shirt he slipped out of the washing basket earlier, washed in the bathroom sink and laid out to dry on his radiator. It’s a little crisp, but it will do.

“It’s fine, I’m coming, chaps! Just a little second, must put on my shoes, eh?”

He trots down the stairs, stops at the bottom, and acts surprised when James and Sirius are standing there staring and him and are not in fact raring to go, already standing on the doorstep.

“That’s what you found? My shirt? _That_ shirt?” Sirius asks incredulously. Remus shrugs. He can pull this off.

“Um, yes. Sincere apologies, mate. It’s the only one that goes with the brown, you know?”

“Well, almost,” James says, smiling belatedly. “I do still have like a…grey…charcoal…blackish jumper if you’d prefer?”

“Nonsense,” Remus dismisses. “How else will you find me in the crowd if I’m not standing out in a silken leopard print shirt?”

“Because you’re cheering so hard for your dear friend?” James tries. Sirius has just been staring moodily for the entire exchange.

“Fuck it, come on,” he finally sighs. “We’re already late and I feel like this thing with Regulus might take a while. I’m not saying you don’t look ridiculous, though.”

Remus was happy with that response. He once knew a Sirius Black who would have torn the garment from his chest and threatened to strangle him with it, and then charge him for a replacement item. Yet, in this occurrence, off they just went.

_X_

The pitch was brimming with atmosphere even though it was virtually empty, much like Remus’ current situation. James wore a radiant smile, he looked at peace, like coming home. Sirius followed him like a good friend, but he was detached from the situation. There was something else lingering in his expression, his gait. Remus could see that and that was blinding.

“Potter!” call a few voices at once, one on top of the other. James isn’t the captain, but you can tell that the lads see him as one. They embrace him warmly and pat Sirius on the back as an afterthought. Sirius nods politely, barely manages to plaster a closed mouth smile across his full lips for a moment. He’s searching this small crowd, almost desperately, for Regulus, his only brethren.

Remus watches, somehow drowning out the rowdy chanting of James and his team, as Sirius throws a subtle, barely-there nod across to Regulus who is still tying up his bootlaces. His long fingers flick in synchronisation with his little nod, and Remus feels a hot rush wash all over him, inside and out. Those slender digits could be elsewhere…those slender digits have been in a place…where Remus’ wider, hairier digits would like to be…

But he’s getting ahead of himself.

By the time he’s brought himself to again, Sirius and Regulus are visible only for the backs of their black heads showing either side of a long row of lockers, moving animatedly as they back-and-forth in hushed tones. Remus can’t help himself sauntering down the side of the lockers, ears pricked for information.

Sirius and Regulus have always been secretive together; it’s in their nature and their blood. They don’t like outsiders, and that’s why Sirius is struggling so much with his blatant feelings for Remus: they’re too strong, too powerful, and too far out of his acceptable radius. That’s why he treats him with such boredom and even contempt: because he can’t handle the bravery of his feelings, he doesn’t think he can take that risk, but Remus will show him otherwise. Remus will show Sirius Black that he doesn’t have to be Sirius _Black._ He can just be Sirius, he can be any colour he wants to be because in Remus’ eyes Sirius Black is Sirius Light, Sirius Rainbow, Sirius Possibility.

“Look, Sirius,” he hears Regulus hissing deploringly. “You _have_ to keep quiet about this. Remember how much you’ve made me shut up about over the years, at my own expense? If I told Mother and Father half the things I knew…”

Sirius snorts, swine-like yet loud and soft. “You wouldn’t. I know you, Reg. You won’t.”

“I never said I w _ould._ I just think you should do this for me.”

Sirius shrugs, lollopy and loose, as if he doesn’t care. “Sure. It’s not like I ever speak to our parents anyway.”

“Right. I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“Look, about Jame- _Remus?_ ”

Remus had gotten so carried away – looking at Sirius, listening to Sirius, thinking about Sirius, listening to Regulus and tying it all back to Sirius – that he’d forgotten that he had a physical form at all. Sirius was staring at him, tempestuous, annoyed, like he’s going to sprout fangs and claws any second now.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” he lies, and he’s not sure that this one is convincing. He’s lost all composure. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to overhear. I didn’t even hear anything, lads, really. I do apologise most profusely.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, just like his brother except uglier. His eyes are set further back, his nose is bulbous and unrefined, and his skin looks like that of an invalid. It is only the hair and the eye colour that links these boys as brothers.

“I’m off to rejoin the rabble. Talk to you later, Sirius.”

Regulus leaves, but Sirius doesn’t. He’s breathing shallow and he’s staring at the floor as he fumbles in his pockets for a lighter, cigar poised between his red lips. Remus feels like he should say something else, but he knows that any word out of his mouth will be a wrecking ball to the last brick remaining. He simply waits.

“Why are you being so fucking w _eird?”_ Sirius sighs. He sounds exasperated, exhausted. “You know how fucked up my family shit is. Why fucking lurk in on that, like a fucking creep? That’s some dumbass Pettigrew shit right there.”

“I wasn’t lurking at all, Sirius. I was looking for the bathroom. In fact, I lingered because I didn’t want to walk past you while you were having that vital conversation. It wasn’t at all what it looks like.”

Sirius just eyes Remus, a little too long, a little too tiredly.

“Mate, you’re wearing my fucking shirt. You’re cornering me at breakfast and talking in riddles. Like, are you _okay?_ What’s happening here? What have I done? Because I’d rather you just ignore me, or even try a ‘nice suggestion’ like James tries when I’ve pissed him off.”

He propels smoke from his mouth, balled up within a heavy sigh. Remus sees the weight on his shoulders, the cloud of smoke around him, his metal bones and robotic armour and feels sad for this lost little boy.

“You haven’t done anything,” he sighs, even though the slammed doors and swiped food and the passive-aggressive bills not paid to Remus, ever, but to James, always, bothered him before. Now the troubles have evaporated and he wants to hug Sirius.

“Come on, Sirius,” he says softly. “Let’s go and raid the vending machines.”

Sirius throws him a long look in his shroud of smoke and he exhales mysteriously one last time.

“I’ll meet you there. You’re paying.”

_X_

 

Sirius allows Remus to buy him a chunky KitKat, a bottle of Coke Zero and an extra value bag of cheese and onion crisps. They sit in one of the front embankments, bathed in pale golden light and drowned in the atmosphere of people – football fans, faithful friends and partners, locals with not much else to do but go to a cheap game with cheap beer. Peter hasn’t come along because he’s off with what Sirius has dubbed “some miraculous simple bird who’s entertained him and not got bored after a minute”, but he’s not needed. Remus is glad for the alone time with Sirius, glad for the opportunity to chip away a little more at his iron guard.

“I hope we win!” Remus chirps, attempting to kindle some conversation. Sirius has his lips planted around the neck of his Coke bottle as he side-eyes Remus something rotten. Remus feels a heated flush befall him beneath the collar, and lower, right beneath his thighs. He blinks to make it go away, and looks back to Sirius chancingly, to find he’s done away with the bottle.

“That’s literally the dullest thing you could say,” Sirius tells him, hard and straight, a little like himself, a lot _un_ like himself. “And the most pointless.”

“I’m just trying to spread the team spirit, Sirius,” Remus counters amicably. “This is exciting! One of your best friends, and your brother – and yes, he’s your brother, despite your family quibbles. This is going to be tremendous fun. Or do I need to buy you more sugar to get you in the mood?”

“Wait – why are you talking about James and my brother like that?”

Remus is confused. Perhaps he’s gone too far again – the Black family are a touchy subject with this boy. He says nothing, though his tongue is dancing around in his mouth in search of those perfect words.

“You do realise that I _don’t_ hate my brother? I mean, he’s a difficult toerag but as far as my fucking – what did you say? – _“family quibbles”_ go, he’s non-existent. We’re in the same boat, I don’t _blame_ him for- you know what? Why am I talking to _you_ about this? You don’t get it.”

Remus might not have shown it, but that hurt, it really honestly hurt him deep inside his most buried cell. He kept quiet about so much of everything that he could feel it bubbling, he could feel his throat beginning to overflow and the sensation of the words boiling until they began to pour out, but it wasn’t a bad feeling – he felt not only free in himself, but as if he were liberating Sirius at the same time. These words belonged to both of them, would set them both free to do as they wished. No longer would Sirius have to pretend to be best friends with James just because James had claimed him. No longer would he have to reject Remus’ friendly affections – and more – just because he was afraid of betraying or upsetting James, who had a fierce yet unrealistic notion of loyalty. This was their brand new start.

“Sirius, I do. I mean, a bit. From what I know, perhaps even more. You can talk to me, you know. You don’t only _have_ to talk to James because you both decided to label each other ‘best friend’ when you were kids, before either of you even had any other friends. You have a _choice._ You can change your mind. He’s always off with the footie team and Evans anyway, you probably spend more time with me than him. You know that we could have something fantastic, something out of this entire universe, we could have that together. I’ve seen the way you rage at me, the way you specifically target me – you take my food, use my utensils, you snap at me harder than anyone else, you can’t bring yourself to look at me. Sirius, you need to listen to me: stop being scared of your feelings. You’re allowed to f _eel_ you’re allowed to _want._ You’re allowed to want _me._ You’re allowed, because…because I’m allowed. Because _I_ want _you_ too.”

It wasn’t perfect, but he’s done, and he’s said it – it’s all out there, in its most raw and honest form. Sirius is looking at him, stunned to the core. His silvery eyes are glowing and his mouth is hanging open just so. He blinks a few times, he shakes his head. He stares out to the pitch and runs his hand over his face, then slowly turns back to Remus, mouth opening a little wider.

“What do you-?”

But Remus stops him, gently at first, then stronger, as his lips feel Sirius’ and take more of them, wanting and hungry. His hands have found Sirius’ neck, either side, and he feels a wolflike urge inside him to _pull_ Sirius closer – so he does. He feels a surge of hunger so he bites and nips and sucks at those perfect red lips. He moans loudly, he moans Sirius’ name into the delicious wet cavern of his mouth, and then it’s over.

Sirius is gone.

He’s walking away.

He looks back down the steps towards Remus, as Remus stands yet can’t move, can’t do anything except look after him. Sirius just shakes his head starkly at Remus, then shrugs his shoulders and his arms flop sadly back down to his sides.

“I can’t,” he mouths, and then he disappears into the tunnel.

He’s gone.


End file.
